


The Hero, The Conqueror, and the Scholar

by LordMinast



Category: Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms
Genre: Character Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Gen, Holy Grail War (Fate), Hurt/Comfort, M/M, The Fuyuki Grail War is weird
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-19 05:49:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29745936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LordMinast/pseuds/LordMinast
Summary: Three men meet in a house, purchased by a killer.One of them wants to be a hero.One of them wants to experience the world again.One of them wants to be happy.And yet, while each of them suffered greatly in the Fourth Fuyuki Grail War, each of them has a chance to achieve their dreams.
Relationships: Bazett Fraga Mcremitz & Kotomine Kirei, Emiya Shirou & Iskandar | Rider, Emiya Shirou & Tohsaka Rin, Emiya Shirou & Waver Velvet, Gilgamesh | Archer & Kotomine Kirei, Iskandar | Rider & Waver Velvet, Kotomine Kirei & Tohsaka Rin, Matou Sakura & Tohsaka Rin, Tohsaka Rin & Waver Velvet
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	1. Fear and Loathing in Fuyuki

Shirou Emiya was tired.

This wasn’t particularly unusual for him. He was a young man whose ginger hair was constantly messed up, with either soot or dirt, and who was constantly looking somewhat dishevelled due to his never-ending workload. Whether it was academia, altruism, or just practicing his talents, Shirou never took a break. That was why, when he finally left the building of Homahura Academy, the sun had set and the moon was starting to begin it’s ascent, piercing the sky and watching over Fuyuki like a single, unblinking eye.

He breathed out, exhaling all the stress of the day. Another day repairing things, helping people out, and trying to keep his academic and social life in some kind of stable position. It was exhausting.

This must be the first challenge of being a hero, he supposed.

It had been an uneventful day, it seemed. He’d repaired some old, practically collapsing pieces of equipment that the school had neglected to maintain, and he’d avoided going to Archery club - he didn’t really feel like dealing with Shinji today - and now it was time for him to go home, make himself some food, and then practice his craft. For Shirou had something of a secret.

  
  
Shirou was a mage, taught by his father, Kiritsugu Emiya. Of course, he wasn’t good at it - he hadn’t even managed to master the art of tracing - but it was something he could work towards. Nothing was out of his reach with enough practice, and Shirou was stubborn enough to work until he died.

  
  
As he left the gate, he noticed a small shine, out of the corner of his eye. What looked like a dull metal canister lay there, deposited in a small hedge. Most people wouldn’t notice it. And yet, Shirou felt compelled to take it away. Maybe it was trash that needed to be recycled, maybe it was something else. Placing his hands upon the canister, he closed his eyes.

  
  
“Trace...on.” He said, and he felt the magic flow. He felt the canister resonate, and then he understood the contents.

  
  
Poison. Deadly and cruel, the payload to some kind of machiavellian trap. Dropping the canister, Shirou stepped back in horror, his breath ragged. Who would establish a lethal weapon at a school? Who would want to end the lives of children?

  
  
Gritting his teeth, he resolved to do the heroic thing. He snatched the canister up, and began walking back home. He couldn’t let this harm anyone else. And so, he began his march, looking over his shoulder whenever he felt like the gathering gloom was watching him.

  
  
He never saw anyone, but the feeling never left.

* * *

  
  


He arrived back at the old home, and he sighed, hanging up his coat. He still needed to figure out what to do with the poison canister. He was very aware that he was carrying something very bad - indeed, he was very glad that Taiga and Sakura weren’t here tonight. No doubt Taiga would give him an earful about being late, but that wasn’t important right now.

Suddenly, he heard the sounds of something rustling. Fear seized him, his impulses screaming. Should he investigate? Should he run, or fight? Eventually, the need to check what was happening won out, against his better judgement, and Shirou opened the door.

  
  
Stepping into the gathering gloom, he clutched the canister close to his chest. Looking around, he saw no traces of animals, no footprints - nothing at all. And yet, the wind wasn’t howling - something disturbed the brushes. As he looked around, a single sound broke the silence - a sound Shirou was all-too familiar with.

  
  
The twang of a bowstring being released.

Shirou leapt to the side, narrowly avoiding a bolt that embedded in the floor. Looking on in horror, he saw the bolt vanish a few moments after impact, as a figure revealed itself. The figure was a tall man, crouching upon the branch of a tree that loomed over the house. A dark green cape obscured most of his features, but he could make out an unkempt mop of ginger hair emerging from it. A chuckle rang out, as the figure spoke up.

  
“Ah, my apologies. Can’t say I’m thrilled to be doing this. If you hadn’t checked that thing out, I wouldn’t have had to do anything, but you know, don’t you?” The man spoke, a voice that felt coarse and unrefined - a stereotypical rogue. The figure leapt down, landing on the floor, and thrusting out a hand. Upon the glove, a intricate crossbow was revealed - a small weapon, mounted upon his wrist. “You got a name?”

“Emiya. Shirou Emiya. You don’t have to do this! Why would you put poison at the academy?” He asked, his voice cracking with fear. He had to be strong.

“I’m afraid I do, Emiya. Not a nice tactic, I’ll admit, but if fighting is pretty, you’re doing it wrong.” He said, firing the crossbow. Instantly, the bolt flew out, and Shirou panicked, acting on pure instinct.

  
  
“Trace...on!” Blue lines of magic ran across the canister, and in a moment of panic, he hurled the canister towards the bolt.

The bolt tore into the canister, a plume of green smoke erupting towards the attacker. He swore, rolling away as another bolt materialised in the crossbow. As the canister flew backwards, the enhanced durability of tracing failing within seconds, it left a curtain of putrid smoke rising upwards. As the shooter tracked Shirou’s movements, Shirou dashed into the small shed, slamming the door behind him as a bolt broke through the wood, narrowly missing him.

“You should stop running! This is only going to hurt more! I’m trying to make it easier on you, Emiya!” The attacker shouted, seemingly pausing and waiting to determine his location. Shirou crouched, taking a small pipe from the scattered pile of tools on the floor, waiting for the attacker to try to enter. If he charged in, he’d have the advantage in close-quarters. Probably. Bows took time to aim, after all.

  
  
Moments later, Shirou realised the size of his mistake as the attacker kicked in the door, pointing the crossbow in his face. Shirou swung with the pipe, only for the attacker to dodge, kicking him in the ribs and readying the crossbow between his eyes.

  
“Huh. So you’re a mage. You did some weird magic back there. Yet you don’t know why I’m here? You’re not very good at this, Emiya.” The attacker sighed. “Fuck, this is not what I like doing. You got any last words? I’ll try and give you some dignity.”

  
  
“What’s your name?” He burst on instinct, and the attacker paused, chuckling a little.

  
  
“Fair enough. I’ll give that one for free. You can call me Archer.” He paused, tilting the crossbow slightly. “You got some better last words? I’d feel bad killing you after that.”

  
  
Shirou paused, feeling so small. The words felt like lies in his mouth. But he said to say them. No hesitation. No fear.

  
  
“When I was young, I should have died. I witnessed everything burning around me! Every night, I see that fire, burning and consuming! But I was saved, saved by the most valiant and beautiful act that I have ever seen. A hero saved me, and I will not go without seizing my chance to be that hero. I will make sure that I am the hero that can save as many people as is in my power, and I will never stop fighting to push myself further! I refuse to give in, because no matter how impossible the dream may be, a hero does not give in, they fight, and when they lose, they only regroup to try again! I will be a hero of justice, Archer!” He screamed, throwing a punch that slammed Archer’s hand, nudging it by mere inches.

  
  
As the hand moved, a brilliant flash of red light burst from the dark room, and an intricate pattern of crimson markings burned themselves onto his hand. Archer gasped, seeing them, and then he looked down, noticing something that even Shirou had forgotten about.

  
  
The old circle pattern, engraved into the ground so long ago.

  
The pattern illuminated with blue light, as the light coalesced and wrapped itself into a shape. From this silhouette, a tall man emerged. Brilliant red hair burst from his head, in a neatly trimmed beard with a cropped haircut. Muscles burst from his arms, and he wore the uniform of some kind of ancient soldier. A sword stood at his hip, and he drew it, roaring in the direction of Archer as the attacker leapt out of the shed.

  
  
“Ahaha! Welcome, Master! I see there’s a chance to conquer! Tell me, Archer, you face me, Servant Rider - now how does that make you feel! What terror do you feel, facing the King of Conquerors before you!” He laughed, drawing his blade. Archer adjusted his hood, stepping around carefully.

  
  
“Impressive title. But I earned my legend fighting against my king. I’m not exactly afraid.” Archer said, readying his crossbow.

  
  
“Come then! If this is a grail war, then I’ll crush one of my foes underfoot so soon! Ah, I have longed for this!” Rider grinned, laughing joyously. It wasn’t a manic laugh, Shirou noticed - just a laugh that was fueled by genuine happiness.   
  


“Calm yourself, King of Conquerors. I’m a man who likes to dictate the pace of battle. I’m not here to fight on your terms. We’ll meet again, Rider.” Archer grinned, nodding towards him and Shirou, before a flourish of the cape obscured him, before both cape and Archer vanished. Rider focused for a moment, before laughing.

  
  
“Well, that was fun! Come, Master! Let’s sit down, have a drink and rest our bones and talk about what’s happening! But first, I think I need to call someone! Do you have a phone, or that fascinating device I discovered last time - the email, I think he called it?” Rider patted Shirou’s back with enough force to hurt his spine, and he coughed awkwardly.

  
  
“I...okay, that’s a lot of questions. I’ve got a phone you can use. There’s a telephone book, too, or a Laptop? Why, what are you doing? Who are you?”

  
  
“No time to explain! Make something to eat, and then we’ll talk! But first, I need to speak to a friend!” Rider’s jaunty energy was somewhat infectious, and thus that’s how Shirou Emiya was standing in the courtyard after nearly getting killed, while the largest and most imposing man he’d ever seen opened up the laptop that Shirou had laying on the table, checking the internet.

* * *

  
  


Waver sighed. Authority wasn’t what he’d hoped for.

  
That’s why, when someone called his office phone at the Clock Tower, he grew irritated. Could he not have one moment to unwind after dealing with Reines’ particular brand of sadism? He could swear that receiving a title was supposed to be an honour, but when Reines was giving him a title, he didn’t feel particularly honoured. Picking up the phone, he grimaced.

“El-Melloi the Second speaking. Can I help you?” 

  
The voice on the other end was not a voice he expected to hear anytime soon.

  
  
“Waver! Guess who! There’s a grail war and this scrawny kid summoned me! You should come over here, it’ll be great! We can drink, have a good time, shoot the breeze! That’s the phrase for relaxing now, right?”

  
  
Waver’s world shattered. Because he’d been searching for years, only for his goal to literally arrive and call him up.

  
  
His king had returned. Tears brimmed in his eyes as he spoke.

“...Iskandar?”

“Ah-ha, good to see your memory still works! I was worried you’d gotten old and senile, sitting behind a desk!”

  
  
“...how are you here? There shouldn’t be a grail war for another fifty years. It takes more than a decade for the grail to gain enough energy to summon servants.” He asked, only to be greeted by the verbal equivalent of a shrug. In a moment, he paused, before speaking quickly.

  
  
“If the grail war is happening again, I intend to make sure. I’ll be there in two days.” He instantly hung up the phone, and something unexpected happened, something that hadn’t happened in a long time.

  
Waver Velvet leaned back into his chair, and began to laugh. He laughed, and his laughter echoed around the room - not a bitter, sarcastic chuckle like he was prone too, but a joyous, almost childlike laugh that was free of cynicism.

  
  
It was time for Waver to see the King that had built him into the man he was today. 


	2. A Foot in the Door

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rider and Shirou discuss what's happening. Rin summons her unusual servant. Kirei muses on the coming Grail War.

“So...what the hell is all this? You appeared and you fought that guy, and you call yourself Rider - which isn’t a name, so I’m really confused about that - and then he runs off, and he could do magic, and then you called some guy in some kind of clock tower?”

Shirou felt like that was a reasonable set of questions. Across the table, Rider laughed, a boisterous laugh as he began pouring a can of soda down his throat.

“Ah, you don’t have a clue, do you, boy?” He asked, and Shirou felt shame fill him.

“Hey...how am I supposed to know any of this? And what’s with going from calling me “master” to calling me “boy”? And why were you calling me master in the first place?” He asked, and Rider chuckled.

“I call you both because both are true, of course! Right, have you ever heard of the Holy Grail?” Rider asked, and Shirou shrugged.

“I mean, it’s a thing knights quested for in the past, right?” Rider laughed, but seemingly not trying to mock Shirou.

“Less romantic than you phrase it, but yes! Indeed, boy, a magical vessel! This object, supposedly, can grant the wish of whoever wins the great Grail War! Personally, I’d love to drink from it. That’d be quite the statement, wouldn’t it? Drinking from the wish-granting vessel before embarking on my dream of bringing a new Argead Empire, from here to Okeanos!” He grinned, and Shirou looked at him blankly.

“Okay so…”less romantic”? You’re literally talking about a gold cup that grants wishes. As ideas go, that’s the most literal fairy tale plot element I’ve ever heard. And...is your wish seriously world domination?” Shirou’s mind was running at a mile a minute, and Rider just laughed.

“No, no no no. My wish is to live again. And then I’d conquer the world. It’s meaningless if I just ask and receive. I didn’t push my way through Persia and Bactria, searching for the edge of the world, only to just get victory handed to me.” Rider smiled fondly, before continuing. “Hear me, boy, for I tell you that the Grail responded to your wants. I know not why it called upon me, but allow me to introduce myself. I am Iskandar, King of Macedon, Persia, Bactria, and Egypt, founder of so many cities, nemesis of Darius, and he who charged in search of Okeanos, the edge of the world, in face of the impossible. I am a heroic spirit, a servant of the Rider Class, and I am sworn to fight for the Holy Grail!”

Shirou paused, racking his brain. “Iskandar...as in Alexander the Great, right?” He paused, and that seemed to put Rider into another fit of laughing.

  
  
“You flatter me, boy! Indeed, I was quite great. And we will ensure that you, too, become great. For greatness isn’t carried from the womb - an undying spirit and a willingness to fight the impossible is what makes one great. And together, we shall face every servant in this war, and conquer the impossible!” He grinned, drawing his sword, and gesturing with a magnetic energy that Shirou was honestly amazed by.

  
For the first time, he’d found someone that might understand his own dream. His beautiful, impossible dream.

  
  
“Iskandar...I do have a dream. I, Shirou Emiya, wish to become a hero of justice. To put myself between the innocent and all the evils of the world, and to stand tall and save everyone in front of me. I have no interest in conquest - I seek to fight until everyone is safe, happy, and free. That’s my wish. I won’t let anyone else suffer.” He stood tall, and Rider watched cautiously, before musing quietly.

  
  
“Hmm. You remind me of a few people in the last grail war. There was a King there, you know. Someone that was sworn to take on the burdens of her people. I don’t know what happened to her, but I hope she was happy.” He paused, a pensive look on his face. “I won’t tell you about the other one. You’ll learn in time. There’s more important things to discuss, boy!” He grinned, before flying into another speech.

  
  
“So, there are seven servants. I, myself, am Rider. Heroic Spirit of the Mount. Apart from my own class, there are several others - Saber, Lancer, Archer, Caster, Assassin and Berserker. I’m sure you can imagine what each of those are like, but the takeaway is this - each of us are magical beings, sustained by your mana, boy. Now, you’re quite frail, magically speaking, so I’m afraid that deploying my Noble Phantasm will be difficult, but we’ll make do. No battle is without hardships! Now, the goal - kill the other six servants, and claim your wish. We need not harm the masters, fear not, boy.” He seemingly noticed the look of horror on Shirou’s face, which led to him adding that last part.

  
  
“So...what exactly is a Noble Phantasm? This all makes enough sense so far, but I’m confused on that point. And what the hell are these marks on my hand?” Shirou gestured down, and Rider nodded, continuing the explanation.

  
  
“Good questions, boy! You’re learning fast. A Noble Phantasm is a special ability a servant has. For example, in my last war, Saber had a blade that could into a beam that could shatter fortresses, sheathed in invisible air. Caster had a book that summoned horrors, and Archer could fire any weapon from gates in the air at incredible speed.” He swallowed, seemingly remembering the previous war. “As for the last question, those are your command seals. You may use them to infuse me with magic, push me beyond the impossible, and enforce your will upon me. I urge you - use them carefully. It can summon me from afar, but you only get three of them.”

  
  
Shirou scratched his head.

  
  
“You’re being...very honest...about the ability to force you to do things you don’t want to do. Why would you tell me this?” He asked, and Rider smiled.

  
  
“Everything you have told me is the point of view of an idiot with a dream. So I don’t fear you, boy - in fact, I think we’ll get along brilliantly. Now, go rest. Tomorrow, we scout, and then we conquer!” He roared, vanishing into a series of golden sparks. Shirou could tell that he was nearby, but could not pinpoint where.

  
  
“Well, I’m going to sleep, I guess...this could be the weirdest dream I’ve ever had.” He murmured. As he tucked into bed, he swore he could hear a chuckle from Rider.

* * *

  
  


Earlier in the evening, Rin Tohsaka found herself fuming angrily. 

Rin wasn’t, contrary to what people would say of her, inpatient. At least, not quite. She got tired of people prevaricating and wasting time, but if there was a valid reason to wait, then she was ready to wait. After all, Rin Tohsaka did not spend time twiddling her thumbs when there was something productive to do.

  
  
However, if she waited for something, and then that something didn’t materialise, then she was going to be furious. And indeed, that had happened, as she stood around the summoning circle, only to see no servant appear. Oh, someone was going to have a bad time tonight. If she got one more call from Kirei  _ fucking _ Kotomine about how time was limited, she was going to spend the rest of her life trying to summon the devil, just to have him perform minor torments on the strange priest.

Sighing, she began heading upstairs. She needed a damn cup of tea. She was going to actually break something in a disappointed rage if she didn’t. What kind of unfair system didn’t give you a servant after you rolled the proverbial dice for them? Trudging upstairs, she wasn’t ready for what she saw.

  
A tall, well-dressed man, in a suit the colour of murky water, a wide-brimmed hat that obscured his face, with a murky and wild crop of hair emerging from underneath him. A red tie that was long enough to resemble a scarf. Just looking at him, he could feel intense power radiating, and yet there he was, sitting upon a couch, drinking tea from her pottery.

  
“A pleasure, master. Do sit. I suspect we have much to discuss.” Confused, she sat down, putting everything together.

  
  
“So, you’re my servant? Why didn’t you appear in the circle?” She asked, and he shrugged.

  
  
“I couldn't possibly say. I’m no mage, Master. I’m a simple nobleman. I’m a man possessed of rage and fury, called by yourself, believe it or not.” He mused, sipping his tea and he pushed a cup towards her. She looked up at him blankly, before taking a sip.

  
  
“What do you mean? Of course I summoned you. That’s what I was literally just doing!” She exclaimed, but he continued regardless.

“Oh, that is true, but it’s not what I meant. You’ve been betrayed before, haven’t you? Somewhere in that dignified exterior you wear is hatred and fury, and that’s something I understand oh-so-well indeed.” He drank, letting her respond.

  
  
“What are you talking about? I’m not trying to get revenge on anyone.” She bluntly said, and he shrugged.

  
  
“That’s not true, master. If it were, you would not have summoned me. But sometimes the machinations of the Grail are subtle, so it is possible that it responds to your unconscious, rather than the thoughts that you are aware of. Allow me to introduce myself. I am the Count of Monte Cristo, a servant of the Avenger class. I am no mere Berserker, nor am I a conventional servant at all. I am dedicated to rooting out evil, and burning it in righteous flame. Together, we shall win this Grail War.”

Rin gaped. Partially in shock, partially in amazement, and partially in some kind of confused irritation that this servant claimed to understand her better than she did.

“I’m sorry, are you saying the Grail knows me better than I do? And how the hell can you be an Avenger? That’s not possible! There’s only seven classes!” She snapped, but Avenger just shrugged.

“Well now, as for the first question - not as such. But if you think that you are the first person entangled by the Grail because of an unconscious wish, then you are a fool, Master. As for the second, it is based on a false assumption. While there are the seven classic containers for heroic spirits, there are plenty more that are more...esoteric. Avenger, Ruler, Foreigner. Even things as unusual and bizarre as an Alter Ego or a Moon Cancer. But frankly, the odds of one of the above showing up are effectively zero, so I doubt that we’ll see a second non-standard servant.” He paused, musing to himself. “Though I’m afraid this is all knowledge imparted on me by the Grail. I’m afraid this is my first Grail War, Master. Though fear not - I know how to fight, and how to kill. With me at your side, we will cleanse this war of sin.”

Rin finished her tea, thinking to herself. Eventually, she spoke.

  
  
“Well, I can’t very well call you Avenger. Then everyone will know that the rules of the Grail War have gone out of the window, and that something is terribly wrong.” She thought out loud.

  
  
“We could pretend that I am, in fact, a Berserker. Contrary to popular opinion, permanent frothing rage that prevents any attempt at communication isn’t required. It’s the closest fit, even if I do consider it horribly inaccurate. While I am a creature full of righteous fury, it is focused and channelled into one point. I do not seek something as petty as the deaths of those who wronged me. No, I seek vengeance - a cold, cruel thing that is given to those who are equally cold and cruel.” He mused, his scarf flapping as though animated by his own intense speech. “Oh, but it appears I was ranting. I do apologise, Master.”

“It’s...it’s alright, Avenger. I suppose I should call you Berserker in public, then? Do you have a name, by the way?” She asked, and he froze, stood completely still.

  
“...some people have called me Edmond Dantes. A name I reject, but if worst comes to worst, and we are in front of those who are not part of this war, I give you permission to refer to me as Edmond.” He practically whispered, his face contorted as it tried to remain stoic.

  
“Very good, Avenger. In that case, we’ll begin investigating the area tomorrow evening, once I’m done with school. We’ll try to avoid people, especially seeing as you seem uncomfortable with that name. I’m going to rest before the school day, don’t do anything stupid.” Rin commanded, before rubbing her eyes and heading up to her bedroom. Behind her, Avenger nodded quietly, accepting the instructions. Tomorrow would probably be an interesting day.

* * *

Kirei Kotomine drank deeply from the glass of water before him. For most men, they’d feel like wine would be a more appropriate drink for the excitement ahead. Kirei was not most men, though.

Indeed, Kirei was a man who had often compared himself to a flint. Sharp and jagged, holding unseen potential. Early man had seen flint as nothing more than a sharp rock, an instrument for bashing the brains of their rivals. Then some brilliant mind discovered how to use flint to spark a flame, and those who were in the past were left behind.

Kirei was the flint. In the last grail war, everyone saw him and Assassin as a mere catspaw for the Tohsaka family - everyone with the exception of Kiritsugu Emiya. Then he had crushed Tokiomi, stolen his servant, turned Kiritsugu’s servant against Rider, and then arranged for every loose end to tie themselves up. In the end, while Kiritsugu had won, it was a hollow victory that broke him, whereas Kirei found his passion, and plotted with the newly incarnated Gilgamesh to indulge in it.

  
  
Kirei was a sadist. He loved to see his fellow man suffer. Nothing gave him satisfaction except for seeing people brought low. Seeing the flames envelop Fuyuki after Saber tried to destroy the Grail was beautiful. But seeing the broken, dazed look on Kiritsugu’s face as he wandered the rubble, desperately searching for anything to validate his broken worldview had been equal parts a source of jubilation and disappointment.

  
  
Jubilation, because he had managed to drive a man, who had already seen so much and turned his mind to steel, to his lowest point.

  
  
Disappointment, because he knew that he would never manage to push Kiritsugu lower than that. He was a doll with his strings cut - there was no further joy to be gained from him. He was no longer the man that Kirei had respected. He was a grieving husband, looking for anything to salvage from the ruins of his city and his dream.

  
This time, Kirei could tell that there were some exquisite horrors ready for the participants of the Grail War. The machinations were complete.

  
Bazett, one of his friends from the association, had gladly joined the war. Privately, he had hoped to let her summon a servant, then kill her and steal the Command Seals. Sadly, Bazett had already summoned a Lancer by the time they met in person. A shame, but not insurmountable, for Kirei had two cards in his sleeve, and many more hanging in the wings.

  
The first, an Archer-class servant. Robin Hood, he had described himself. While Robin bridled at the instructions being given to him - apparently, setting poison gas traps across the Homurahura Academy was something he was uncomfortable with doing - Kirei had more than enough Command Seals to enforce his will, no matter what. His summoning was a delightful portent - if the Grail was willing to let him summon a servant, then that opened even more doors for him.

  
The second, the more secretive one, was a second Servant. One that was not bound to follow his instructions, but nonetheless an ally. Gilgamesh, the Archer from the last Grail War, was here.

  
  
Between the two Archers, and the foibles of Human Nature, Kirei looked forward to the delicious torments he could inflict on each master. He just needed to understand each of them first.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God, writing Kirei makes me feel bad. He's such a twisted guy, I love him, but I do feel like it's a lot of effort. I had to re-watch Episode 2 of UBW abridged to get into the mindset of Kirei.
> 
> If you enjoyed this, feel like to give kudos, or leave a comment, or bookmark, or even check out my other works! And if you didn't, then constructive criticism is also very cool and good!

**Author's Note:**

> Ayy, this is the start of my Fate Stay/Night AU fic! I hope you enjoy the bromance of Shirou and Iskandar, that's for damn sure!
> 
> And of course, if you enjoyed it, do feel free to drop a comment or a bookmark or a kudos. And if you really liked it, I've written other stuff ;)
> 
> Just a heads up, the servants in the character list are not necessarily corresponding to the human character they're next to. I like to leave people guessing.
> 
> Hopefully next chapter won't take long!


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